


Talaxian Slump

by bjbookcase



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-23 19:27:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13196955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjbookcase/pseuds/bjbookcase
Summary: If Kathryn Janeway thought dealing with an overbearingly cheerful Talaxian was rough, wait until she has to deal with a depressed one.





	Talaxian Slump

**Author's Note:**

> Post Endgame. However, I have taken the liberty of bringing Neelix to the Alpha Quadrant with the rest of the Voyager crew.
> 
> Don’t worry; Tattoo Guy is in here, too, as is the Doctor.

The sky wept. Not with the gut-wrenching sobs of an inconsolable lover, but with the soft, unceasing tears of a woman lost in regret. Kathryn Janeway stared at the rain streaking the window glass. If it weren’t so sad, it would be almost funny how even the weather paralleled her mood. With one major exception, that is. The rain would soon end. Her blues seemed determined to stay.

Yet, they couldn’t.

“Starfleet admirals don’t sit around moping,” she chided herself. She took a last look out the windows in the breakfast alcove, then pushed back her chair and carried her coffee cup to the kitchen sink. With the dregs of her breakfast rinsed from her cup, she headed for the small powder room just off the kitchen. Maybe splashing cold water on her face would help.

She’d forgotten the face.

It greeted her in the mirror. Pale, colorless skin exposing the sharp planes of her skull. Dull, blue eyes disappearing into the black holes of their sockets. A tight bun disguising her limp and lusterless hair. And worst of all, a mouth that couldn’t seem to remember any position other than a downward turn. She hated this face–it was a harbinger of her darkest moments.

It had first appeared during her incarceration in a Cardassian prison camp. Rescue eased its grip, but it took Justin to banish it. Falling in love brought the flush of desire, passionate glances, and a mouth that couldn’t get enough of him as he ran his fingers through her long, silky hair. She’d glowed.

Then Justin and her father had died. The face returned, and this time it took a bucket of ice water–courtesy of sister Phoebe–and an old childhood friend to chase it away. Comfortable with Mark’s unfailing devotion, she’d soon found the fire of ambition coloring her cheeks, a bright future dancing before her eyes, and a sleek, professional twist accentuating her crown of glossy, red hair. Her lips twitched to give the command: Engage!

The Caretaker had changed all that. And for a time, the face tried to return–just as it did every so often throughout  _Voyager’s_  journey through the Delta Quadrant. Somehow, it seemed to sense those times when she let herself get a little too comfortable, a little too close to those around her. Fortunately, the demands of captaining a ship 70,000 light years from home had left her with little time to dwell on self-doubt, recrimination, and regrets.

Well, except for that time in the Void.

The face had caught her off guard then, cornered by too much time and too little to do. Thankfully, the Delta Quadrant coughed up yet another major crisis to distract her from her brooding. Banished again, the face had faded into background noise.

Then they’d made it home.

“Nope, not going there,” she told the face in the mirror. So what if  _Voyager’s_  return to the Alpha Quadrant hadn’t quite lived up to her expectations.

_And just what were your expectations? Did you really think you could put your life in stasis as easily as the Doctor might preserve a tissue sample?_

Kathryn shook her head and sighed. Even the most carefully protected sample wasn’t impervious to time forever. That was the thing about time: it marched on. And everything in its path had to adjust, adapt, or give way. If her mother and her sister seemed a bit like strangers . . . well, she probably was a bit of a mystery to them as well. They did have seven years of catching up to do, after all. Something that wouldn’t happen if she didn’t stop worrying about what they might think of the hard edges the Delta Quadrant had chiseled on her, and made more of an effort to meet them halfway. If she had to be an admiral instead of captaining a ship again, then, dammit, she needed to start exercising some of those admiral’s prerogatives and do a better job of balancing duty against her personal life. As much as she loved her father, deep down, she really didn’t want to emulate his role as the “Absent Admiral.” Family was too important. She’d learned that from her other family–her  _Voyager_  family which was now scattered to the winds.

Yet, that, too, was as it should be. They had their own lives and careers to pursue. And most tried to keep in contact, resolutely ignoring her lack of anything but a politely professional response. Kathryn frowned at her reflection. She wasn’t their captain anymore, nor did her current posting in the Admiralty put any of them under her direct command. Maybe it was time to loosen up a bit and to accept the unique bonds their time together had forged. She didn’t have to become best friends with any of them, but continuing to offer a friendly ear, or shoulder, or bit of advice couldn’t hurt.

Then again, if she did choose to deepen her friendship with those she grown closest to on  _Voyager_ , would that be so bad? She’d always suspected she and B’Elanna had a lot more in common than just a knack for engineering. And Tom? Well, he did make a great younger brother to kick around. Harry? She couldn’t see him as a younger brother–he’d never be that comfortable with her–but she couldn’t hope for a better almost-son. The Doctor and Neelix? Everyone needed friends who could make you laugh. Yet, the two of them constantly provided her with some unique insights into humanity, some she might never have discovered on her own. As did Seven and Tuvok.

_Seven._  Another sigh escaped Kathryn. She couldn’t think about that relationship just yet. Not until. . . .

Kathryn’s hands balled into tight fists. “I’m not going there!”

Tuvok, however. . . . Kathryn smiled and her hands relaxed. If their twenty-some year friendship didn’t stand as proof she could balance her professional and her personal life, what did?

_Then why couldn’t you do it with your best friend?_

Damn! Kathryn wrenched open the cold-water tap and stood, her hands braced to either side of the sink, watching the water splash into the basin and disappear down the drain. What she wouldn’t give if her thoughts of Chakotay would disappear as easily. She could come to terms with the time necessary to get reacquainted with her family. She could open herself to the possibility it was time to become better acquainted with some of her crew. Yet, decide . . . find . . . yet alone, want the time to figure out her relationship with her best— _former best_ –friend?

Kathryn slipped her hands into the streaming water, its icy cold causing her to gasp softly. She cupped her hands and then bent over to bury her face in the captured water. She did this several times before grabbing the hand towel hanging next to the basin. Using the napped cloth, she scrubbed her face dry; then looked up, studying her face in the mirror. “Wonderful! Now I look like some fool who traipsed across the Forge of Vulcan without any skin protection!”

What she needed was something to focus on other than her own muddled thoughts. Maybe, if it was time to do something, it was time to ask for an assignment off-planet. Some nice, complex, diplomatic confusion in which she could immerse herself. Squabbling emissaries, feuding functionaries, parsimonious planetary potentates . . .

_Ping! Ping!_  The soft chime of an incoming message disrupted her descent into alliterative allusions.

Kathryn tossed the towel on the counter and hurried to her office. Sliding into the chair behind the desk, she activated the communications link. The incoming message was from the Doctor. Her finger hesitated over the accept key. If he wasn’t calling about some appointment she’d missed or would rather not make, he probably wanted her opinion of his latest–and always too lengthy–speech on holographic rights. At the moment, she doubted she had the patience to tolerate either possibility.

Then again, talking with the Doctor was a guaranteed distraction. She could deal with the resulting headache later. She tapped the key.

“Good morning, Admiral, how . . .”the hologram began, only to stop and stare out of the monitor at her. “Are you feeling all right, Admiral? You look a bit . . . flushed.”

Oh shit, he’d noticed her reddened complexion. “I’m fine, Doctor,” she assured him.

He didn’t say a word, but one eyebrow lifted to an impressive height.

Thinking fast, Kathryn brushed one cheek with her fingers. “Oh, the redness.” She ducked her head and sighed; then looked up and gave a soft, embarrassed chuckle. “I’m afraid you caught me in the middle of my weekly exfoliation routine, Doctor. I’ll look good as new once I get my moisturizers and age-defying skin enhancers applied.” She smiled brightly at him. “The things we women go through to look good for you men.”

Skepticism turned to a puzzled frown. Maybe she shouldn’t have laid it on quite that thick. In seven years on  _Voyager_ , had she ever given anyone the least reason to believe she gave a rat’s ass about how she looked?

Well. . . .  _Not going there, remember?_

The Doctor stared at her a bit longer, watching for some chink in her armor, no doubt; but she kept the bright smile firmly in place. Eventually he sighed and said, “Yes, well, it’s certainly nice to see you making even that small effort in taking care of yourself. Maybe we can work on a healthy diet and less caffeine–“

“Doctor, did you just call to lecture me or is there some actual purpose to this call? I’m a very busy Starfleet admiral, remember?”

The Doctor opened his mouth, and then obviously thought better of it. Kathryn hid a smile. It seemed seven years of beating his head against an immovable object had finally taught the Doctor pragmatism. Bluntness, however, was a skill he’d always possessed.

“I’ve had to quarantine Mister Neelix, Admiral.”

* * *

Kathryn Janeway made it to Starfleet Medical in record time. Now, as she strode down the deserted halls, she wondered again what possible reason there might be for her former chef and irrepressible morale officer to end up in quarantine. The Doctor hadn’t exactly been forthcoming in their brief conversation, saying he preferred to discuss the matter in person. She was trying to remain positive–all that command training had to be useful for something–but she really just wanted to know one way or the other. Even if. . . .

Neelix couldn’t be dying. Yet, it would be just like fate to snatch away another of those closest to her. Wasn’t it enough. . . .

_Not going there, remember?_

Besides, if Neelix were dying, wouldn’t the Doctor have said that rather than say he was under quarantine? Kathryn lengthened her stride.

PADD in hand, the Doctor met her at the nurses’ station. “This way, Admiral. I don’t have an office yet. Can you believe there are still some petty bureaucrats who don’t recognize my. . . .”

Thank goodness, her glare still intimidated him.

“Yes, well . . . we can talk in here,” he said and escorted her into a small, private consultation room. Inside, he waved her into one of a pair of chairs angled in front of a rather plain-looking desk while he took a seat behind the desk. He placed the PADD on the empty desktop.

“Thank you for coming, Admiral. Not that there was any question you would. I’ve thoroughly documented your dedication to your former crew in my logs. And while I realize Mister Neelix’s proposal may be a bit presumptuous even for him, we both know he’s never let that stand in his way.” The Doctor gave her a small smile. “You are aware, aren’t you, with Kes gone, he considers you his closest friend?”

Kathryn rubbed her temple. “Doctor, as much as I appreciate your attempt at clarifying my . . . relationship with Mister Neelix, perhaps all this would make more sense to me if you started closer to the beginning. Perhaps with whatever condition has required you to quarantine him?”

“Of course, Admiral.” The hologram turned the PADD one hundred and eighty degrees and slid it across the desktop to her. “I’m afraid our Mister Neelix is suffering from Talaxian slump.”

Kathryn picked up the PADD. “Talaxian what?”

“Talaxian slump. A rather idiomatic term, I’m afraid, for the equivalent of what would be considered depression in a human.” The Doctor was in his element. “Treatable, of course. However, due to a rather fascinating quirk in Talaxian physiology that precludes the use of most standard pharmaceuticals, that treatment entails a rather unusual methodology. That’s where you come in, Admiral. I’ve outlined what’s involved–”

Janeway held up a hand. “One moment, Doctor. Depression isn’t contagious. Why is Mister Neelix in quarantine?” Then it hit her. “He isn’t suicidal, is he, Doctor?”

“No, but we might be before we’re done helping him,” said a new voice from behind her.

_Chakotay?_  What the hell was he doing here? Kathryn dipped her head, suddenly deeply fascinated with the PADD in her hand as her former first officer eased his large frame into the chair next to hers. Could her day get any worse?

“Just in time, Captain Chakotay,” the Doctor greeted him. “I take it you’ve read through the information I provided.”

“And had a brief visit with the patient. Very brief.” Chakotay wrinkled his nose. “After sampling first hand what we are dealing with, I went ahead and upgraded the oh-two scrubbers we had on the supply list, Doctor. I also think we might want to reconfigure how many will be needed to really do the job. While I’m sure your olfactory suppressants might be sufficient in open areas, in any enclosed spaces I’d rather err on the side of . . . breathable air.”

Breathable air? Kathryn nearly looked up at that. What did breathable air have to do with a case of depression?

“Not having a sense of smell myself, I’ll leave such matters to your judgment, Captain.” The Doctor’s smile was as bright as his baldpate as he responded to Chakotay. “I’ve just given the Admiral her copy of my report and was about to go through Neelix’s treatment protocol with her. Now that you’ve had a chance to observe our patient, your personal impressions may prove helpful–especially considering your quasi-counselor role on  _Voyager_.”

Kathryn risked a glance through lowered lashes at the man beside her. He was tugging on an earlobe and looking decidedly uncomfortable.  _Good._ Why should she be the only one?

Wait a minute! What was that the Doctor said about “our patient”?

Chakotay turned then, as if sensing her scrutiny. “I think just as many people came to the captain for advice. Don’t you, Ka . . . Admiral?”

“Wha . . . what?” Caught between her discomfort at having to deal with Chakotay long before she was ready to and her confusion over just what was going on with Mister Neelix, Kathryn struggled to gather her thoughts. And her courage. Short of faking a heart attack–as tempting as that was–she needed to deal with this. All of this. Like an admiral. Yes, like an admiral.

Schooling her features into casual neutrality, she turned her head and found herself staring directly into Chakotay’s eyes. She’d forgotten how brown those eyes were. “Oh, hello, Cha . . . er, Comman . . . uh, Captain Chakotay.”

_Smooth, Kathryn._  She took a deep breath, and tried again. “Sorry, I’m afraid I was concentrating on the Doctor’s diagnosis. You know our doctor. Never one to hold back on the details.” She smiled, fervently hoping it didn’t look as forced as it felt.

Chakotay’s own smile turned . . . Calculating? His wicked sense of humor, however, distracted her from pursuing that line of thought.

“They do say the proof is in the preponderance of details.”

Kathryn choked back unexpected laughter as the Doctor tried to puzzle that one out. “I’m not sure you have that quote correct, Captain.”

“I don’t?” Chakotay shrugged. “Well, I’m sure the Admiral understood what I meant.” His grin widened. “And speaking of that report. . . .” For the first time, Kathryn noticed the PADD he held in his hand. “While I’m perfectly willing to offer whatever help I can, Doctor, I have to admit the preferred method of treatment does sound rather . . . unorthodox. Even by Talaxian standards. Don’t you agree, Admiral?”

Damn that man! He knew perfectly well she hadn’t had time to more than glance at the PADD the Doctor had given her. So why bait her like this? They didn’t play these silly games anymore. Hadn’t for a long time. And especially not now. Not as things currently stood between them.

And what exactly was between them?

_Not going there, remember?_

Yet something in her couldn’t back away, couldn’t admit he’d caught her out. Not while there was still one last, stubborn breath in her body. They’d just see who could out bluff whom.

Kathryn smiled sweetly at the man beside her.

“Unorthodox? Perhaps . . . but then, unorthodox treatments are the Doctor’s forte, aren’t they? I’m certain he wouldn’t be willing to pursue this treatment option if he wasn’t convinced of its merit.” She turned back. “Am I right, Doctor?”

If he looked merely puzzled before, the Doctor now looked completely at a loss. “Forgive me Admiral, but are you saying you are comfortable with the course of treatment I’ve outlined?”

Kathryn flicked her eyes at Chakotay just long enough to recognize the smug smile on his face: Put up or shut up.

“Of course, Doctor.”

* * *

Chakotay peeked out the window at the woman seated on the broad, wooden steps leading up to the cabin’s front porch. Her gaze was as fixed on the peaceful, blue waters of Lake George as it had been on the PADD she’d pretended to read during their shuttle trip from Starfleet Medical. At the time, he’d tried initiating some casual conversation, only to give up when he met with nothing more than grunts and monosyllables. Now, he chose to ignore her funk. She would come around when she was ready and not a moment before.

Besides, it wasn’t as if she didn’t have a good reason for being upset at him. Several good reasons, if he was honest with himself. Especially during their last few months in the Delta Quadrant.

_Don’t go there, old man. Focus on the present._

Yes, the present. The here and now where Kathryn was pissed not only because she had let him bait her, but because she’d let herself get reeled in as well. He regretted tricking her that way, but sometimes the easiest way to get Kathryn to do anything was to make her think she’d chosen that option herself. Like having her bring up Lake George as a possible “isolation ward” for Neelix’s treatment regime.

No, knowing her as he did, he doubted even the fact Neelix had personally requested her participation would have convinced her to go along with what he, she, and the Doctor were about to attempt. Particularly when this whole thing positively reeked of what Kathryn, the scientist, had always considered as being well outside her personal sphere of expertise.

Speaking of reeking. . . . Chakotay rubbed his nose and glanced over his shoulder at the door to one of the bedrooms. Poor Neelix. Depression was bad enough, but depression with side effects?

Grimacing, Chakotay left the window to inspect the room’s portable oh-two scrubber. Installing a scrubber in each of the cabin’s rooms had been their first priority when they’d arrived. He squatted in front of the quietly humming device and tapped a control to run a quick diagnostic. The scrubber was functioning properly. Too bad his nose disagreed.

He stood up to find the Doctor watching him.

“It’s a phantom smell,” the Doctor said. “Just your brain playing tricks on you, I’m afraid. Yet, isn’t it fascinating how the human brain can recall some odors so vividly? An experience, in this case, I’m sure, you and the Admiral find less than appealing. To borrow one of Mister Paris’s more colorful colloquialisms, Mister Neelix isn’t exactly ‘smelling like a rose,’ is he?”

“Nothing a prolonged soak in a vat of cheap perfume wouldn’t cure.” Chakotay chuckled, remembering an ill-fated shore leave excursion into which he and the doctor had once stumbled. “Too bad there’s not a Jabeesian pleasure house nearby.”

“Something I’m sure some of us would know more about than others.” Kathryn stood in the cabin doorway.

It wasn’t the opening he’d hoped for, but at this point, Chakotay was willing to take whatever fate handed him.

“There’s a fresh pot of coffee simmering on the stove. Can I get you a cup, Kathryn?”

“I’m quite capable of getting my own coffee, Captain,” she replied, striding across the room and leaving the swinging door to the kitchen swishing back and forth in the wake of her passing.

“I would have preferred knowing about this. . . .”

“Break down in communications?” Chakotay offered.

“This break down in communications, Captain Chakotay,” the Doctor continued, “before we ended miles from anywhere with both a depressed Talaxian and an irate admiral on our hands.”

“Kathryn’s ire is directed at me, Doctor. She’ll be as pleasant as ever with Neelix and you.”

“And that should reassure me how?”

Chakotay bit back a rather nasty retort as Kathryn reappeared through the kitchen door. In her hands, she cradled a steaming cup of coffee, gracefully balancing it as she crossed the room and took a seat in a large, over-stuffed chair. Like the rest of the cabin’s furniture, the chair looked a bit battered and worn from years of use. Kathryn settled back against the faded cushions, took a long sip of coffee, and finally looked up at them.

“Well, gentlemen, what say we go over how this . . . what did you call it, Doctor?”

“Feelosogouldigan.”

“How this feelosogouldigan is going to work.”

“I believe I thoroughly outlined and explained that in the information I gave you, Admiral.”

She tried to smile, but the tense set of her jaw and the slight tightening around her eyes was still noticeable. Chakotay hoped the Doctor was paying attention. Right now, he had first dibs on any decompiling that might occur.

“Humor me, Doctor, pretend I haven’t a clue how the three of us are going to cure Neelix.” Her tender concern look was much better. “Don’t you think we owe it to him to make sure this . . . procedure is absolutely clear in our minds?”

Seeing his chance to one-up the Doctor and repair some of that failure in communication between himself and Kathryn at the same time, Chakotay jumped in before the hologram could respond.

“The Admiral has a point, Doctor. It can’t hurt to go over each of our roles in the feelosogouldigan one more time. After all, the Admiral and I don’t have your expertise in this sort of thing.”

As always, playing to the Doctor’s vanity proved a good choice.

“I hadn’t considered that, Captain. My apologies to you both.” The Doctor moved to the couch across from Kathryn and took a seat. “Very well, let me begin with a brief review of Mister Neelix’s condition. . . .”

Deciding he might as well be comfortable, too, Chakotay moved to the opposite end of the couch. From this angle, he could see Kathryn as well as the Doctor, yet he wasn’t in her direct line of sight. Watching the play of emotions across her features as the Doctor talked, he settled back against the corner cushions. Spirits, but he’d missed her. Which probably wasn’t all that odd considering they’d spent very little of the past seven years more than a bulkhead away from each other. They’d worked together, played together, laughed together, and cried together. Hell, about the only thing they hadn’t done together. . . .

_Don’t go there, old man._

It took an effort, but Chakotay pulled himself back from that enticing, but treacherous, mental precipice. Right now, the ties of friendship took center stage, and forgetting that, even for a moment, wasn’t going to help anyone. Settling deeper into the cushions, he focused on the Doctor’s words. His eyes, however, remained on Kathryn. He was still watching her some time later, when the Doctor finished.

Kathryn set her coffee cup on the table next to her. Her hands moved to her face, scrubbing at it for a moment before running back through her auburn hair and pushing it off her face. At some point, she’d curled her legs beneath her. She straightened them now and eased to her feet. A few steps took her behind her chair where she gingerly stretched her neck, arms, and back before leaning against the chair and resting her arms on its high back. She glanced in his direction; then fixed her gaze on the Doctor.

“Okay, let me see if I have this straight. I’m to be first tangent, responsible for talking directly to Neelix. Captain Chakotay is second tangent, responsible for talking to me about what Neelix and I talked about. You, Doctor, are third tangent, responsible for talking to the captain about what he and I talked about concerning what Neelix and I talked about.”

“You got it in one, Admiral!”

“And you, Doctor, might want to consider purging your data banks of Lieutenant Paris’s colorful colloquialisms.” Kathryn’s fingers stroked her temples.

Too late, Chakotay tried to mask his laughter with a coughing fit.

“Did you have something to add, Captain Chakotay?” Ice-blue daggers skewered him.

_Damn._

Luckily, the Doctor took that as a rhetorical question on the Admiral’s part.

“I know this all sounds a bit convoluted, Admiral. Perhaps it would help to remember that the key belief here is that with each . . . talking, for lack of a better word, the base issues are drawn further and further from their original source, thus incrementally losing their power. Again, the key belief being that three incremental removals reduce the power of the base issues to a level where the patient can manage their remaining influence without outside intervention.”

“In other words, he’s cured?”

“According to Talaxian precepts–yes, Admiral.”

Kathryn’s eyes closed and her fingers again stroked her temples.

Chakotay held his breath. “Come on, Kathryn,” he silently urged her. “You never think twice about setting aside your own problems–your crew always comes first. Their problems are your problems, remember? Come on, love, show us that stern stuff you’re made.”

Love?

_Don’t go there, old man. Focus!_

At last, her shoulders heaved with a deep sigh and Kathryn opened her eyes.

“I have your assurance, Doctor, that the fact Mister Neelix smells worse than a Bolian garbage scow won’t be a problem?”

Chakotay sucked in his own deep breath and relaxed.

“I’ve already prepared a supply of hyposprays loaded with olfactory suppressant,” replied the Doctor, smiling like a Cheshire cat. “Unfortunately, there is little I can do about the molting and his tendency to fall into a state symptomatically similar to inebriation. However, I have replicated some auditory protection devices that should limit the effects of his rather discordant caterwauling.” The Doctor’s expression softened. “Despite the inconveniences, Admiral, please rest assured that your interactions with Mister Neelix will prove highly beneficial.”

Kathryn stood. “Very well. Let’s get this feelosogouldigan started, shall we?”

* * *

She strolled along the beach, sun-drenched sand warming her bare feet and a light breeze tangling her shoulder-length hair. Out on the lake, that same breeze ruffled the gray-green water with whitecaps. Inland, it stirred the stands of conifers that circled the lake into a swaying waltz.

It was as breathtakingly beautiful and as peaceful as Kathryn remembered, yet she couldn’t help missing the things she couldn’t sense. The cool, cleansing scent of sand and water contrasted with the heady aroma of humus and pine. A whiff of wood smoke lingering on the air. Nor those she could sense in only a limited fashion. The gossipy whispering of swaying trees. The echoing cries of distant waterfowl. She realized now just how dependant her experiences of Lake George were on all her senses.

A flicker of movement caught her eye, and she glanced at the short, stocky figure paralleling her path, yet keeping several feet between them. His pungent body odor was undetectable, but she winced involuntarily at the large patches of dry, sloughing skin exposed by his light clothing. The once proud crest of tawny mane fallen into limp, oily dreadlocks wasn’t a much better sight. “On second thought, maybe there is something to be said for limited experiences,” she muttered, scuffing the sand with her toes.

“Admiral?”

Damn, she’d forgotten only her hearing was restricted–and an unfortunate tendency on her part to compensate by speaking louder than she intended. Then again, maybe this was the opening she needed. They were supposed to be talking after all. She countered Neelix’s quizzical expression with a smile.

“I just realized that, rather than detracting from my enjoyment of this place, having limited senses has, in fact, increased my appreciation for these beautiful surroundings.” She spread her arms wide and turned in a slow circle. “I mean, look at this place, Neelix. Beauty, serenity . . . and friends with whom to share it. What could make it more perfect?”

To Kathryn’s dismay, tears welled up in the Talaxian’s eyes and his lips began to quiver.

“Not having me here.”

“Neelix, you are one of my most trusted officers and friends. How could I not want you here?”

“Because I almost kept you . . . all of you . . . from making it back to this wonderful place,” he wailed.

Unnerved by his outburst, all Kathryn could think to do was to grab his hand and lead him to a low, grassy hummock at the edge of the beach. There, she quickly picked a spot and sat; then tugged gently on Neelix’s hand until he plopped down beside her. She let go of his hand and studied his slumped, weeping form for a moment.

“I don’t understand, Neelix,” she finally said. “Why would you say–let alone think–such a thing?”

Eyes she could only describe as haunted met her own.

“I lied to you, Admiral, right from the start. I deceived you into helping me rescue Kes . . . then I lied to you about my skills as a chef and a guide. I was no more qualified to cook or chart a course than I was in any of the other tasks I claimed I knew how to do. You Terran’s have a saying: ‘Jack of all trades, yet master of none.’ Well, that’s me!”

The Talaxian thumped himself on the chest, an action that caused a small hailstorm of dead skin cells to fall from his body. Kathryn saw it, but refused to allow herself to react even when the Talaxian kept gesturing, turning a small shower into a major storm.

“Seven years in the mess hall, Admiral, and do you know how many compliments I got on my food? Three. Anonymously. Then again, how many people do you know who really like eating the glandular secretions of a dunghill fowl or pasta made from the hair shaved off the belly of some swamp creature? Not many, I bet!

“As for guiding you . . . Humph! Considering how pitifully limited my knowledge of the Delta Quadrant actually was, it’s a wonder we aren’t still out there, flying in circles. By the Great Tree, I couldn’t even negotiate for a map without involving  _Voyager_  in illicit activities and endangering the crew. Lieutenant Paris and Captain Chakotay nearly paid with their lives for my stupidity.” Neelix stared down at his hands. “Not that theirs would have been the only blood on my hands.”

“Neelix–”

“No, Admiral. It’s the truth. I’m a liar and a charlatan, but, worse, I’m a murderer. Check the mission logs. I wasn’t merely content to screw up every mission I went on, causing some unnecessary disaster or another. No, I had to screw up so badly people died. Matthew Hogan, Kurt Bendera . . . Joe Carey. I was–”

“Enough!” Kathryn jerked her hand up, signaling him to stop. “Enough,” she continued a bit more softly. “I know I’m supposed to let you express whatever is troubling you, but right now all you are doing is heaping blame on yourself.”

She reached out and rested a hand on his forearm. Her blue eyes locked on his tear-stained face.

“If I understood the Doctor correctly, if the purpose here is to discover the root causes of your depression and eventually distance you from them, then we need to really talk. We need to have a genuine conversation where the two of us exchange thoughts and feelings, questions and answers. We might even have to do a little soul-baring . . . which means we have to trust each other.” She gave his arm a gentle squeeze. “Are you up for that, Neelix?”

Neelix covered her hand with his. “I’ve always trusted you with my life, Admiral.”

* * *

“What are you doing?”

“Making sure you’re Talaxian skin-hail free.”

“See that lake out there, Captain. Why don’t you put on your lead boots and go see how deep it gets!”

“Yes, ma’am!”

That earned him her death glare, but there was no real heat behind it. Chakotay smiled to himself. Maybe this wasn’t going to be as hard as he’d thought. However, it was time to get down to the business at hand.

“He’s right, you know. Every mission he went on did result in his team–and thus,  _Voyager_  –embroiled in some predicament or another.”

“I’ll remind you, Captain, that–with the possible exception of perhaps three occasions–none of those predicaments, as you call them, could even remotely be considered his fault. And he certainly wasn’t responsible for any deaths.”

Well, so much for hoping this wasn’t going to be hard.

“I’m not saying he was, Kathryn.”

Chakotay reached down and plucked a blade of grass from the grassy hummock on which they rested–the same hummock where Kathryn said she and Neelix sat earlier that day. He ran the delicate stalk through his fingers, absently noting its color, shape, and texture as he considered his next words.

From what she’d told him, once Neelix opened up and they discussed what really had him feeling so despondent, things had progressed nicely. When he fretted over his inadequacies as chef and guide, she’d reminded him of his successes as morale officer, drawing out of him an acknowledgment of the importance of the bonds of friendship and family he’d nurtured with celebrations like Prixin and Ancestor’s Eve and entertainments like his holo-resort program. On a more personal level, she stressed the bonds he’d forged with B’Elanna Torres and with Tuvok; and, perhaps most importantly, his special bond with his goddaughter, Naomi Wildman. It took a unique individual to serve as a pressure valve for a testy Klingon, act as mentor to a neurologically handicapped Vulcan, and tutor the captain’s assistant all at the same time.

Chakotay smiled. For a fleeting moment, he and Kathryn had shared a warm chuckle over those memories. Then her expression sobered and she went on to explain what happened next.

When Neelix still seemed tentative about his contributions to  _Voyager’s_  crew, Kathryn brought up his skill in trade negotiations and as an ambassador. She had no way of knowing she was opening a Pandora’s Box of guilt the Talaxian had been carrying all these years. From that point on, no matter how adamantly Kathryn countered his self-accusations, Neelix just as adamantly stuck to his belief that he was a screw-up and a murderer. Their conversation came to an abrupt end when the little Talaxian sprang to his feet and lumbered off singing his favorite Klingon drinking song at the top of his lungs.

Which brought them back to now–dealing with the emotionally loaded minefield of talking about death. It certainly wasn’t something he’d expected to encounter this early in their talks–if at all. Neelix may be a lot of things, but as Kathryn said, he certainly wasn’t responsible for any deaths.

Yet here death was. Just waiting for him to take one misstep and blow this particular emotional minefield to hell and back. Something that could happen all too easily considering that, while, at this point, Kathryn might be comfortable talking with Neelix, she still seemed to be of two minds about talking with him.

Chakotay tore the blade of grass in his hand in half, and then continued tearing each resulting piece in half.

Perhaps waiting for them to regain their footing with each other was a mistake. Maybe he should push the two of them into clearing the air between them.

No, Kathryn’s continuing ambivalence might not make traversing this particular emotional minefield any easier, but it was something he would much rather deal with rather than the possibility of trying to cure Neelix without her.

Chakotay sat up and brushed the bits of grass from his hands.

“Unfortunately, you or I saying he had no responsibility in those deaths doesn’t alter that fact that Neelix believes he does.” He held up a hand to forestall the comment he saw forming on her lips. “You said he couldn’t tell you why, though?”

“No, he just kept repeating that he was a screw-up and a murderer.”

“Hmm, Hogan, Bendera, and Carey. Why those three particular deaths, do you think?”

* * *

“So in the end, the Admiral and I concluded that, as designated team leader, Neelix felt he shouldn’t have let Hogan venture into the caves on Hanon IV alone. In the same way, as the person who urged the captain to listen to the Trabe leader, Mabus, in the first place, he felt responsible for the attack on the Kazon majes and thus the death of Kurt Bendara.”

The Doctor pursed his lips and nodded. “Classic survivor’s guilt.”

“Exactly what Kathryn and I thought,” Chakotay replied. “Though, in the case of Joe Carey, his reasoning wasn’t as easy to follow. He was as outraged as the rest of us at Joe’s cold-blooded death. Then we remembered that it was he and Paris who, despite the hostile actions of Verin and his people, urged us to help them.”

“Which was the humane thing to do.”

“No arguments there, Doctor.”

“However, in light of his current behavior, you and the Admiral believe Mister Neelix was, in actuality, deeply conflicted over this action and his support of it, seeing them both as somehow belittling Carey’s death.” The Doctor looked thoughtful for a moment. “An interesting variation, I’ll grant you, but still a classic case of survivor’s guilt. And quite treatable. When is the Admiral’s next talk with him?”

“In the morning.”

“Good. I’ll prepare a PADD with some suggestions on how she can direct their talk so Mister Neelix might better understand how situations such as those he experienced can be a focus for misplaced guilt.” the Doctor paused. “The Admiral is comfortable with this, isn’t she?”

“She’s fine with it, Doctor.” Then seeing the hologram’s expression, Chakotay added. “I know, but after talking with her and hearing her insights into Neelix’s feelings, I believe her. Don’t forget, Doctor, Kathryn’s had to deal with her own survivor guilt demons over the years . . . some more serious than others.”

“Ah, the incident on Tau Ceti.”

Chakotay nodded. “If nothing else, the counseling she received then, coupled with the intensive study on this same subject required of all command officers, actually makes Kathryn the perfect person to talk to Neelix about how to cope with these feelings.”

“Been there, done that?”

Chakotay shot the Doctor a startled look. “The Admiral was right. You do need to purge Paris’s colloquialisms from your data banks.”

* * *

“I have to admit, I hadn’t thought of it that way before, Admiral.” Neelix tipped his head, nodding thoughtfully, and then smiled. “In fact, I quite like your little . . . what did you call it?

“Rubric.”

“Right. Written in red.” His smile deepened. “Command red.”

Kathryn shook her head, chuckling. “That’s certainly one way of remembering it.”

“If locked in blame you be, ‘tis grief shall set you free,” he recited; then reached over and patted her arm, bringing a rush of moisture to her eyes. “If you can do it, Admiral, then so can I,” he pledged. She didn’t doubt him for a moment.

His next words, however, had her tears, once again, threatening to fall.

“Do you have another rubric that will keep me from missing Kes?”

* * *

Chakotay glanced at the woman walking beside him: the slight rounding of her back and the arms tightly clasped across her chest, and felt a tightening in his own chest. “I’m sorry, Kathryn. That couldn’t have been easy to talk about. Kes was like a daughter to you.”

“Actually, I think sharing our mutual feelings about Kes was the most enlightening topic Neelix and I have discussed yet.”

Something in her tone set alarm bells ringing in Chakotay mind, but the only way to discover why was to proceed. “What makes you think that?”

Kathryn shrugged. “Oh, different things. For example, I never realized he was actually jealous of Kes for a time when they first came on board  _Voyager_. She seemed to fit in so easily with the crew–forging friendships and taking on responsibilities as if she’d always had them. It took Neelix much longer to find his way.”

“Not everyone adjusts to new circumstances as readily as others,” he told her, wondering where this was going. “We both know that. And he did eventually adjust–and became a valued member of our crew.”

She kept her gaze fixed on the path before her, but Kathryn’s shoulders lifted and her arms dropped to her sides. “Yes, in time, Neelix found his way–as did we all.”

Unable to think of a response, Chakotay was content to let the two of them walk in silence for a time. Just ahead, the sandy beach gave way to an outcropping of jumbled boulders. Sometime in the distant past, a glacier had scooped and rounded, and then dumped these large, granite stones on the lakeshore. They could find a spot there to sit and continue their talk.

He just forgot one thing: Kathryn’s own plans.

When they reached the rocks, she didn’t even pause. Chakotay watched in surprise–and not a little admiration–as she moved with confidence to the start of some unseen path, hoisted herself up, and began climbing and clambering through the maze of rock. She moved with the easy grace of someone who’d followed this same path many times before. If he didn’t want to be left behind, he had no choice but to follow. He just hoped he could keep up.

Minutes later, Kathryn came to a halt in front of a large, throne-like formation that overlooked the lake. “Phoebe and I played King Arthur here,” was all the explanation she offered as she claimed that hollowed-stone chair for her own. Not missing the irony in the situation, Chakotay took a seat on a low stone just to the left of Kathryn’s throne.

“I may have lost someone I’d come to think of as a daughter, but he lost his best friend.”

Chakotay looked up. Kathryn had tucked herself into one corner of her stone throne and was staring out over the lake. The tension in her body radiated like a force field and his fingers itched to sooth it away.

_Don’t go there, old man._

Mentally shaking himself, he stuck to a safer response. “That couldn’t have been easy for him.”

“‘She’d been the finest friend anyone could have,’ Neelix said.”

“Friendship is important.”

“So is love.” Kathryn’s voice was so quiet he almost missed it. “He was her first love.”

“I gathered that,” he said.

Kathryn’s expression grew wistful. “I hope they both realized how fortunate they were. Kes, to have found someone who saw her youth and inexperience as something to nurture and guide. Neelix, to have found someone who flourished under his tender, loving care, and could love him in return.”

There went those alarm bells again. Were they still talking about Neelix and Kes? Or. . . .

_Maybe it’s time to go there, old man._

Chakotay dropped his gaze to his lap and watched his fingers pluck imaginary lint from his trousers. He’d known going into this that he and Kathryn would eventually have to talk–really talk, not just maneuver around each other. Too bad that didn’t make it any easier now that the time had come.

_Coward!_

A sudden image popped into his mind: Kathryn’s face when he’d cornered her into agreeing to help with Neelix’s feelosogouldigan. Then, slowly, that image changed. A smug smile played across Kathryn’s lips. She didn’t speak, but her message was crystal clear.

Chakotay lifted his head, gazing now at the real Kathryn.  _Time to put up or shut up._  He swallowed the lump in his throat.

“I won’t deny their time together was special,” he said. “Yet, in the end, they chose to go their separate ways.

Kathryn’s head whipped around, her startled blue eyes searching his face. “Why?”

“He came to realize he wasn’t the one for her. And I think they both came to realize that a first love isn’t necessarily a last love.”

“Did they keep their friendship intact?” she asked with careful emphasis.

“They did.”

“Good! Friendship is important.”

Chakotay slipped from his stone seat to kneel at Kathryn’s feet. He reached out and took her hand in his.

“So is love,” he said, praying to the Spirits she could hear and see the depth of feeling behind those three words.

Tears shimmered in her eyes and her lips pressed together as if that might stop their quivering. She tried to pull her hand away, but he tightened his hold. Kathryn’s face crumpled then, and her free hand came up to cover her mouth. She turned her head, staring back out at the lake.

“Kathryn?” Chakotay leaned a little closer and added his other hand to the one holding her hand.

She shook her head, either unwilling or unready to talk.

He squeezed her hand, letting her know it was okay. Either way, he would give her all the time she needed.

His knees had gone stiff and his legs were beginning to cramp by the time she finally spoke.

“Why?”

“I already told you. He realized–”

“No, why do you still love me? I certainly haven’t given you much reason to.”

By now, Chakotay’s knees were two knobs of gristle resting on a bed of burning coals, and he’d suffered phaser burns less painful than his legs. “Give me a second, okay,” he grunted. He shifted backwards, hoping to ease his legs by sitting back on his previous stone perch.

He missed.

When he could breathe again, he opened his eyes. He was lying flat on his back, wedged between the rocks, but he didn’t seem to be injured. However, he could do without whatever was pressing down on his chest and lower body. He raised his hands to push that weight off him, but stopped when he encountered warm, soft curves. Ah, yes, Kathryn. That certainly explained the yelp he’d heard, and how he’d come to have the wind knocked out of him.

Her face appeared above his then, and seeing it, he grinned. Her expression was priceless. Who knew one look could encompass so many emotions.

“I’m glad one of us finds this amusing.” Bracing her hands on his chest, she started to get up.

Still grinning, he slipped his hands around her waist and pulled her back down against him. “I believe we have a conversation to finish, and this seems as comfortable a place as any other.”

She glared at him for a minute. Then her head thudded against his chest and she let out deep sigh. “I don’t know about you, but I’m having trouble concentrating in this position.”

He pulled her body up his until her head nestled against his chin. By turning his head slightly, he could nuzzle his cheek against her soft hair. “Is that so bad?” he asked.

Chakotay swallowed a groan of pleasure as Kathryn’s body snuggled closer to his own. “I thought you were the one who wanted to talk?” she asked.

He let his hands drift across her back and shoulders. “Isn’t there some old saying about letting your hands do the talking?”

“That’s walking, you oaf. And fingers. Let your fingers do the walking.”

He continued his assault, feeling her body tremble against him.

“Hmm, that works, too.”

* * *

_Bang! Bang! Bang!_

“Are you awake, Admiral? Admiral Janeway?”

_Bang! Bang! Bang!_

“Go ’way!” Kathryn muttered, burying her head in the pillows. “Tell ’em to go ’way!”

Bedding rustled, and she snuggled deeper into mattress at the sudden loss of warmth from beside her. Footsteps padded across the room, followed by the sounds of a door fumbled open. A voice raspy with sleep growled, “The Admiral said to go away!”

“If she’s in the same delightful mood as you are, I can see why.”

Kathryn groaned into her pillow. If she weren’t so tired, she’d show that supercilious light bulb just how delightful she could be.

From the doorway, the Doctor’s voice continued. “Nonetheless, she’s forty minutes late for her talk with Mister Neelix. Which has done nothing to improve  **his**  mood, I might add. He’s out pacing the beach right now; convincing himself that you and the admiral are in full support of my attempt to deprive the Federation of Delta Quadrant delicacies. Not that that isn’t–”

Chakotay’s voice cut in, “Doctor, could we just cut to the chase?”

“Cut to the chase?”

There was the slightest of pauses and Kathryn could have sworn she heard the Doctor’s processors running that idiom through his data banks.

“Humph! Yes, well,” the hologram went on, “as I was saying, the admiral is late for her meeting with Mister Neelix. And while normally I’d be the last person to deprive the admiral of sleep, I also know she would be less than happy if I let her neglect her duties.”

_No, she wouldn’t!_

Grunting with the usual morning aches and pains–and a few new, but rather pleasant ones– Kathryn rolled over onto her back. In one smooth move, she threw back the covers, swung her legs off the bed, and pushed to her feet. She ran her hands through her tousled hair, pushing it off her face, and then snagged her robe from the wrought-iron footboard. She pulled it on as she crossed to the bedroom door. A boxer-clad Chakotay stood between her and her objective–a sight she couldn’t resist admiring for a moment before she stepped around him to confront the Doctor.

“Thank you for the wake-up call, Doctor. Please tell Mister Neelix I’ll meet him at the dock in thirty minutes.” Her hand was on the door, about to push it closed, when an irresistible bit of tit for tat suggested itself. She smiled sweetly at the unsuspecting hologram. “Oh, by the way, I take my eggs scrambled, my toast browned and buttered, and my coffee piping hot and black as an ace of spades. I’ll see  **you**  in twenty minutes, Doctor.”

A pair of arms snaked around her waist and deep chuckle sounded in her ear as she stepped back from the closed bedroom door. “You are one twisted woman, Kathryn Janeway.” Chakotay’s lips nuzzled her neck, sending frissons of pleasures dancing across her skin. “However,” he continued, “I see at least two serious tactical errors in your plan.”

Kathryn leaned back against him, enjoying the feel of his firm body warming her own. And those lips. . . . What was it she was going to say? Oh, yeah.

“And those errors would be . . .”

“One, you should have told the Doctor you needed sixty minutes.” His hands brushed the underside of her breasts. “And two, he’s a doctor, not a short-order cook.”

Kathryn caught his wandering hands, stepped out of his embrace and turned to face him. She stepped just close enough to plant a quick kiss on his lips. “Then it’s a good thing I didn’t ask for those extra thirty minutes since you are going to be busy fixing my breakfast.”

Dodging the swat he aimed at her passing rump, Kathryn headed for the en suite bathroom. She’d just reached the door when what had happened just moments before finally slotted into place. She spun around to find Chakotay watching her, his mouth curled up in an annoyingly cheeky grin.

“Did you really expect him to be surprised, Kathryn? We didn’t exactly . . . talk quietly last night.”

“Damn!” Kathryn slumped against the bathroom door, her head in her hands. She could feel the heat rising in her cheeks as her mind flashed back to the previous evening. Lost in each other, neither of them had given a thought to the other two occupants of the cabin.

Chakotay’s warm hand cupped her chin, tilting it up until she looked him in the eye. “We’re all adults here, Kathryn. The Doctor and Neelix aren’t going to pass judgment. They’re going to cheer us on for finally acting on feelings they’ve known about from the beginning. If I were you, I’d be more worried Neelix is already planning the wedding and the Doctor charting a new health regime to optimize fertility and ensure conception.”

“Wedding? Conception?” she repeated, wondering why it felt like her world was suddenly spinning out of control.

Soft lips caressed her own. “All in good time, love.” His next kiss was heady with promise. “Now go take your shower. I have a breakfast order to prepare.”

* * *

Chakotay entered the kitchen to find the Doctor puzzling over the coffee maker. “Need some help there, Doctor?”

The Doctor turned, holding a part from the machine in either hand. He looked from one part to the other, and then at Chakotay. “It would appear the intricacies of coffee making are. . . .”

“Outside your field of expertise?”

“Amazing as that may seem, yes.” The Doctor laid the parts on the counter beside the coffee maker and let out a deep sigh. “It will come, no doubt, as an additional surprise for you to learn I’m even less familiar with cooking.”

“How are your cutting skills?” Chakotay slipped the parts of the coffee maker into place. And hid a grin as the Doctor switched from embarrassed to affronted in the blink of an eye.

“I assure you, Captain Chakotay, even in the twenty-fourth century, basic surgical skills are still a part of any competent doctor’s repertoire.”

“Good, you’ve got the job.”

The Doctor quirked a holographic eyebrow. “Job?”

“Prep cook. You are going to be in charge of slicing and dicing ingredients while I do the actual cooking.” Chakotay moved around the kitchen, gathering supplies and cooking utensils as he rattled off his proposed menu. “Vegetarian omelets, whole-wheat toast with raspberry jam, cranberry juice. . . .” When he had everything assembled and arranged on the counter next to the cook-top, he returned to the coffee maker. “And, of course, piping hot coffee.”

The Doctor handed him the canister of ground coffee. “Black as the ace of spades, if I remember the order correctly.”

Chakotay grinned. “Doctor, there may be hope for you yet in the kitchen.”

A short time later, the fragrance of sauteed vegetables mingled with the aroma of brewing coffee. Chakotay stirred in his secret blend of seasonings, covered the skillet, and set it off to the side. Wiping his hands on a kitchen towel, he stepped over to see how the Doctor was coming with his latest “prep.”

The Doctor looked up as he approached, but kept his right hand moving in a rapid, circular motion. “I do believe I’m getting the hang of this,” he said with pride.

“That’s good to hear, Doctor.” He reached over and took the whisk from the Doctor’s hand. “I think you’ve got them beat. How about if I get the omelets started while you set the table? Kathryn should be making an appearance any moment now. Are you sure Neelix won’t join us?”

“Mister Neelix ate earlier. Which was when we got into our little contretemps over my discovery that–“

“Doctor, the table?” Seeing the hologram hesitate, he added, “Cupboards to the left of the sink, top center drawer underneath. I assume you know how to set a table?”

“Social adaptation forty . . . hosting your own social gathering.”

“Then I’ll leave you to it.” Chakotay returned to the cook-top, grinning broadly now that the Doctor couldn’t see. He had to admit, the Doctor was certainly being a good sport. Especially considering how he’d been cutting off the hologram’s long-winded discourses all morning.

Chakotay paused, the pan he was holding hovering just above the heating element. Should he be more curious about just what it was that Neelix and the Doctor had argued? He shook his head and chuckled softly. Neelix had been making definite progress in the last few days. If something had happened to cause a major set back, he doubted the Doctor would have been so easily distracted. The hologram had certainly taken full advantage of the two of them working side-by-side to ask about his talk with Kathryn about her last talk with Neelix.

_Talk._  That one word certainly told the story of the past few days. He smiled. Not to mention some new and rather interesting connotations it had acquired in the last twenty-four hours. Not that he’d been quite as forthcoming about those particular details with the Doctor.

He was grinning like an idiot, but he couldn’t help it.  _Focus, old man._

He dropped butter into the omelet pan he’d been heating, and then watched the pale, yellow lump soften and melt. When it began to sizzle, he tipped in a portion of the beaten egg and deftly manipulated the pan to create as even layer of cooked egg. When that layer had set-up to his satisfaction, he spooned a third of the sautéed vegetables onto one-half of it, folded over the other half to cover them, and then slid the whole thing out of the omelet pan and onto a platter. The platter went into a stasis unit to keep warm.

He’d just wiped out the pan and was about to start the second omelet when the Doctor appeared at his elbow. “The table is set. Is there anything else I can do?” he asked.

“Not at the moment. We’ll wait to make the toast until Kathryn joins us.” Chakotay dropped butter into the reheated pan, and then glanced in the direction of the door leading to the living room. “She is running a bit late,” he deadpanned. “Maybe you should go see what’s keeping her.”

“I’m a hologram, not a complete idiot, Captain.”

Chakotay laughed so hard he nearly dropped the bowl of eggs.

The doctor shifted uneasily. “Then the Admiral is upset that I discovered the two of you . . . cohabiting her bedroom?”

“The Admiral will get over it,” said a familiar, husky voice.

The woman in question swept across the kitchen heading straight for the coffee maker. Cup poured, she turned, leaned back against the counter, and took a sip of the scalding beverage. Chakotay’s groin twitched as a look of familiar pleasure suffused her face. He chuckled softly–well, at least he knew where he stood now.

Kathryn took another long drink, and then looked at them expectantly. “So, is breakfast ready?”

To Chakotay’s delight–and the Doctor’s undisguised astonishment–Kathryn dug into her breakfast with hearty gusto. Her ravenous appetite, however, didn’t keep her from taking an active part in discussing the progress of their patient. She peppered them both with questions and didn’t hold back in expressing her own view–vigorously.

His heart sang. This was the Kathryn he’d hoped to recapture. This was the Kathryn he’d held in his arms as they’d talked and loved late into the night, exchanging words of healing and tenderness. Gone–for good, Spirits willing–was the quiet, subdued woman who’d led her crew down  _Voyager’s_  ramp and back into the Alpha Quadrant. The automaton who disappeared into briefings and meetings, and hid behind her responsibilities as Starfleet’s newest Admiral. The elusive loner who surfaced only when duty demanded it, limiting even her contact with family and friends. Limiting it totally with those who’d hurt her.

_Don’t go there, old man. You agreed to move on._

“Chakotay? Earth to Chakotay.”

He snapped back into the moment to find Kathryn studying him with worried eyes. Yet beneath the worry was a depth of love that quickly dispelled any regrets he’d been about to revisit. He reached for her hand, smiling his own love back at her. “Sorry, love. What were you saying?”

Too late, he realized what he’d just said and done. Across the table, the Doctor chortled softly. Chakotay shot him a look, but the hologram merely smiled and saluted him with his coffee cup. The Doctor was practicing “social adaptation number thirty-two: fitting in at social gatherings by partaking of food or beverages”–which in this case translated into “drinking” a cup of coffee. Oh, what the hell, thought Chakotay. It wasn’t as if the Doctor hadn’t nearly caught them . . .

_. . . talking?_

“I asked if you were going to finish that.”

Kathryn pulled her hand from his and gestured at his partially eaten omelet. She, apparently, either didn’t hear or didn’t care about his slip.

“Yes, I am,” he laughed. Spirits, how he loved this woman! “But don’t worry,” he added, seeing her disappointment, “there’s more.”

Chakotay rose from the table and fetched a third omelet from the stasis unit. He cut it into two portions and placed one on her plate. At the look she gave him, he laughed again. “Don’t be greedy, Kathryn.”

Her expression changed to one of doe-eyed innocence. “But I thought you liked it when I’m greedy?”

“Phhttt!”

As Chakotay wiped droplets of coffee from his face, he had to admit it was a spit-take worthy of the most human of humans. As was the Doctor’s rambling recovery.

“Yes, well, speaking of greedy, I’ve been trying all morning to tell the two of you I’ve discovered the reason for Mister Neelix’s cacophonous caterwauling. Well, at least the caterwauling part. Leola root! It seems our patient’s current condition has affected his body’s ability to tolerate his favorite comestible. Unfortunately, allergic reactions in Talaxians often manifest with symptoms that mimic inebriation. Thus, his inclination to sing loudly. Regrettably, the quality–or should I say lack of quality–of his singing is inherently his own. I have no miracle cure for the unmusical. However, the good news is, there’s no more need for the two of you to continue wearing your auditory suppression devices. I’ve confiscated Mister Neelix’s leola root supply.”

Kathryn’s fork clinked against her plate, snapping Chakotay’s attention from the Doctor to her just in time to see her lick her lips and sigh in contentment. A saucy wink told him she’d caught his sharp intake of breath and slight shift in position. Smiling, she slipped from her chair and moved to his side. “Delicious breakfast, sweetheart,” she said, bending to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. She then rounded the table to the Doctor, pronouncing, “And even better news, Doctor!” before planting a similar kiss on his astonished cheek.

“Now, if you gentlemen will excuse me, I’m late for my talk with Mister Neelix. It’s going to be a tough one today. Seems our mixed up little Talaxian has gotten it into his head that it’s his fault  _Voyager_  ended up stuck in the Delta Quadrant.” She thumped open the swinging door, and then paused and looked back at them over her shoulder. “Unbelievable!” she said with a soft snort. “We all know that was my fault.”

As the door swished shut behind her, Chakotay leaned back in his chair and burst into laughter–deep, full-belly sounds of mirth that shook his body until there were tears streaming down his cheeks. Yet he made no effort to stop. Not until he felt the last bit of tension wash away. Then, he sat up and reached for his napkin.

His vision cleared, he looked up to find the Doctor eyeing him. And nearly lost was little composure he’d regained. Who knew one person could look both that shocked and that dismayed? Talk about unbelievable. Chakotay shook his head, hiding a smile behind his napkin.

“I must say I am at a loss to understand your utter lack of concern in this matter, Captain.”

Ah, so that was the problem. Chakotay wiped the remaining wetness from his cheeks. “Have some faith, Doctor. I know she sounded rather flippant, but that was just Kathryn having a little fun with us.” Chakotay pushed out of his chair and began gathering up their breakfast things. “Kathryn will treat this aspect of Neelix’s misplaced guilt with the same patience and caring she’s shown in all their previous talks.”

“Her own misplaced guilt in this matter doesn’t bother you, Captain?”

Chakotay carried the dirty dishes and utensils to the sink and thought about his answer as he ran hot water into the basin and added soap.

“A couple of years ago, it might have, especially during our time in the void. In fact, that’s exactly what she told me when I tried to talk her out of her brooding and into spending some time out of her quarters. It was her fault her crew might live out the rest of their lives in the Delta Quadrant.” He picked up a plate and sponged it clean. “My talk wasn’t very convincing that time around.”

_It certainly was yesterday._

Chakotay smiled, and then sighed. That method of talking wasn’t the focus at the moment. He rinsed the plate and propped it on the drying rack. Right now, he needed to allay the Doctor’s concern.

“However, a few weeks later, Kathryn and I were having dinner together when the topic came up again. By then, I was determined she wasn’t going to keep wallowing in her self-imposed guilt. We must have sat on her couch until the start of shift next morning, debating every rhyme and reason she could come up with for putting the blame on herself.” He smiled at the memory. “It was a long and bloody battle, but in the end, Kathryn finally came to accept there was no other possible decision she could have made. Saving the Ocampa was not only the humane thing to do; it was the right thing to do.”

Chakotay laid the last clean fork on the drying rack and turned to face the Doctor. “Your answer then, is no, I’m not concerned about Kathryn suffering from misplaced guilt.”

“Hmmm.” The Doctor stood and carried his cup to the sink. “Very well, Captain. You do know the Admiral more intimately than I do. If you really believe there’s nothing to be concerned about, I’ll strive to put aside my own doubts.” He thoroughly rinsed his cup and then placed it with the other dishes on the drying rack. His eyes met Chakotay’s. “However, this does bring up a concern I’ve been pondering. The three degrees of removal in the Talaxian feelosogouldigan is all very well and good for Mister Neelix, but perhaps I’ve been a bit lax in my own professional responsibilities to you and the admiral. Dredging up all these memories and talking them out again can’t have been easy for either of you. Therefore, perhaps it would be best if, in addition to our usual afternoon chat about the admiral’s current talk with Mister Neelix, I also speak directly with the admiral.” The Doctor was nodding his head, his attention drifting from Chakotay. “Yes, that’s exactly what I should do. Now if you will excuse me. . . .”

Chakotay grunted softly, feeling the veins in his temples beginning to throb. He should have known any hint of a problem with Kathryn would have the Doctor focused on it like a Maquis phaser on a Cardassian battleship. And just as tenaciously. He tugged on an earlobe. So, how was he going to convince the Doctor that Neelix was the only patient he needed to focus on? Talking until he was blue in the face?

_Now **there’s**  an idea, old man!_

“One moment, doctor.” Chakotay wedged his large body between the hologram and the swinging door. “If you’re really that concerned that the admiral is lapsing into misplaced guilt again, maybe I should talk to her.” He held up a hand, forestalling any argument, but softened the action with a smile. “We both know she’s more likely to open up to me. And, I promise, if there’s even the slightest hint that any of this is encouraging a return of her own self-doubts, I won’t hesitate to inform you, Doctor.” His hand moved to clasp the hologram on the shoulder. “After all, in a way, if it weren’t for you–and Mister Neelix, the ad . . . Kathryn and I might never have had this chance to work things out between us. Think of this as my way of repaying that debt.”

“Seeing the two of you happy is all any of us on  _Voyager_  ever wanted, Captain.” The Doctor tapped his finger on his jaw. “As for the rest, I suppose that would be acceptable. Perhaps I’ll invite Mister Neelix on a hike–I’ve been wanting to add some holo-pictures to my album. That should give you and the admiral plenty of time, and a bit more privacy, for your talk.”

Chakotay fought to keep his laughter buried.  _If you only knew, Doctor._

Then, acting as if a great idea had just occurred to him–which it had–he snapped his fingers. “I have an even better idea. Kathryn has told me for years how much she loves sailing. I’ll pack a picnic lunch and take her for a long sail on Lake George right after her meeting with Neelix.”

“And you’ll talk to her?”

Chakotay put his hand over his heart. “I promise to talk to her for as long as it takes, Doctor.”

“See that you do. And let’s just hope your talking skills are up to the challenge this time.”

Chakotay punched the Doctor lightly on the shoulder and grinned.

“She hasn’t complained yet!”

* * *

The Doctor turned and stared at the swinging door through which he’d just been rather abruptly propelled. Unfortunately, it had no answers to give him. On the far side of the door, Captain Chakotay was “laughing his head off” as Mister Paris would say. It had something to do with their conversation about the Admiral; that much he knew. Yet, it would seem his understanding of humor wasn’t as sophisticated as he’d thought. He needed more input.

For a brief instance, he considered discussing it with Mister Neelix when he and the admiral returned from their talk. The Talaxian often surprised him with his insights into human behavior. However . . . The Doctor rubbed his chin thoughtfully. What this situation called for was a consultation with an expert.

“And I know just the expert!”

Smiling now, the Doctor headed off to prepare some notes. One couldn’t be too prepared for a consultation. He’d even ask Neelix to listen in–they might both learn something. It would mean postponing the hike he’d mentioned to Captain Chakotay, but that was all right. The Doctor hummed a happy tune. Right now, this was much more fascinating than the local scenery. Yes, indeed, he’d get Mister Paris on the communications link just as soon as the Captain and the Admiral left for their afternoon of sailing and talking.

THE END


End file.
